Little Philip, born with Down’s syndrome, attended a third-grade Sunday School class with several eight-year-old boys and girls. Typical of that age, the children did not readily accept Philip with his differences. But because of a creative teacher, they began to care about Philip and accept him as part of the group, though not fully. The Sunday after Easter the teacher brought Leggs pantyhose containers, the kind that look like large eggs. Each receiving one, the children were told to go outside on that lovely spring day, find some symbol for new life, and put it in the egg-like container. Back in the classroom, they would share their new-life symbols, opening the containers one by one in surprise fashion. After running about the church property in wild confusion, the students returned to the classroom and placed the containers on the table. Surrounded by the children, the teacher began to open them one by one. After each one, whether flower, butterfly, or leaf, the class would ooh and aah. Then one was opened, revealing nothing inside. The children exclaimed, “That’s stupid. That’s not fair. Somebody didn’t do their assignment.” Philip spoke up, “That’s mine.” “Philip, you don’t ever do things right!” the student retorted. “There’s nothing there!” I did so do it,” Philip insisted. “I did do it. It’s empty. The tomb was empty!” Silence followed. From then on Philip became a full member of the class.
Easter starts with an empty tomb. Mary sees the stone rolled away and concludes it is empty, telling the disciples, “They have taken my Lord.” Yet an empty tomb prompts questions, “What happened to Jesus?” “Where did they take his body?” Empty creates drama like the panic of the foot race before the disciples find the tomb empty, save for the rolled up burial clothes, clues that the tomb is not only empty but Jesus is alive. But the two disciples get stuck on empty, returning to their homes without encountering the risen Lord.
We know empty. The emptiness of fear, guilt, doubt and loneliness; burdens we explored through Lent. The hollow ache inside when we have lost a loved one. We know empty so well we try to stuff our lives like an Easter Egg filling it with new purchases, fine food and drink or the latest fad. Don’t stop at empty. The tomb is empty because God overcame death, to give Jesus and us new life. Easter is not simply about an empty tomb; Easter, the joy of Easter, is the fullness of Christ’s love, the fullness of eternal life, the fullness of our resurrection.
But it has taken years for the fullness of what the empty tomb really means to come to light. Jesus our risen Lord filled the disciples’ bellies with fish after they cast their nets on the other side. Jesus our risen Lord filled their hearts with hope when he met them in the locked room. Jesus our risen Lord filled Paul with the Holy Spirit blinding him and claiming him in love. Yet our first glimpse of the fullness of the empty tomb is from Mary.
Mary was full of love for her Lord and full of distress and anguish over his death and missing body. Mary’s heart is full of grief, love, and longing for Christ. This fullness is what brought Mary to the tomb before the light of day. Yet when she finally looks inside the tomb, after the foot race, after the disciples leave, the tomb is no longer empty! It is full of two angels, two messengers of God. What was empty is now full: full heart; full tomb.
God’s love is coming to Mary in her grief. God’s presence is there when she needs it the most. Yet Mary turns around, away from the tomb only to turn towards Jesus. As you know turning around is another way of saying repent. In this first moment with the risen Lord Mary is turning around, repenting. Through the resurrection, through the empty tomb, Jesus conquered sin and death. Barbara Brown Taylor reminds us that “The essence of sin is not the violation of laws but the violation of relationships…. Restoration of relationship is paramount, which means that the focus is not on paying debts but on recovering the fullness of life” (Speaking of Sin, pg. 41).
Mary is turning into the fullness of life as she turns to her Lord. The burden of her distress keeps her from recognizing her Lord. It is only when Jesus whispers her name that the fullness of the relationship is restored. The fullness of the resurrection is felt. The fullness of God’s love made real. The tomb is empty so your life can be full. You sins forgiven. New heaven here on earth in our relationship with Christ.
You all know that I love hugs. That is why I hug most of you every week. When Mary experienced her risen Lord, truly saw him alive, after having watched him die on the cross, I imagine she desperately wanted to throw her arms around him and hug him. That might be why Jesus says, “Do not hold on to me.” Nonetheless, Jesus transformed that empty hug, into the full living presence of God. Your risen Lord is with you every moment, calling your name and wrapping you in his love.
Mary is filled with his love and the living promise of the resurrection. Her relationship with Jesus is restored, she makes a full declaration of God made real in Jesus saying. “I have seen the Lord!” professor of theology writes, (“The promise of the resurrection is not only secure because God made it so by raising Jesus from the dead.) The promise of the resurrection is certain when we speak into our own lives “I have seen the Lord!” — words which roll back the stones that confine and constrain in order that all life might be free to know dignity and respect.”
Reflecting on Mary’s example, Dr. Lewis continues,
“I have seen the Lord” insists that the ways of love will win over the ways of hate.
“I have seen the Lord” confirms that the truth of kindness can be heard over the din of ruthless, callous, and vindictive rhetoric.
“I have seen the Lord” gives witness to the fact that there is another way of being in the world — a way of being that is shaped by resurrection, that embodies anything and everything that is life-giving, so demonstrative of mercy, so exemplary of the truth of Easter that others will listen to you, watch you, wonder about you and say, “Wait a minute. Did I just see the Lord?” (True Resurrection, Working Preacher.org).
Remember Little Phillip, shortly after Easter he died from an infection most children would have shrugged off. At the funeral his class of eight-year-olds marched up to the altar not with flowers, but with their Sunday school teacher, each to lay on it an empty pantyhose egg. What was empty, is now full of meaning, of resurrection hope, of the reality of eternal life. God’s new heaven kissed God’s new earth. Phillip is now in heaven saying, “I have seen the Lord!” Amen.
